Felinious Rex - A Series of Fortunate Events
by Aereal
Summary: A series of "what ifs" based on different scenes from the books. When Karigan needs help, who will come to her rescue? A story of ghosts and a reluctant hero. This series will be a collaboration between Owlkin & Aereal.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

The white cat looked up in alarm at a sudden movement nearby but upon realising it was merely one of the castle ghosts, resumed his languid position on the bed. He didn't mind these apparitions, in fact along with the tomb guards they were his only friends in this place, but the gust of frigid air when they came too close made his fur stand on end, and that irritated him slightly. He resumed that careful grooming that he had, of course, just *finished*, ignoring the flicker of amusement from the ghost at the cat's dour expression.

"Hello kitty," greeted the ghost, which of course only served to make the feline more grumpy. He wasn't someone's house pet, and disliked being greeted as such. "We, er, that is, I - we need your assistance" said the ghost, obviously unsure of how to strike up a conversation with a cat.

The cat continued his ministrations with no sign he could hear the ghost.

"You understand me, do you not?"

The cat continued licking and tugging at his pale fur, with no indication that he could, in fact, understand.

The ghost frowned, and tugged at his green uniform.

"Look, Karigan's in danger, and if we don't do something - I can't warn her, and -"

The cat raised himself and with a gusty sigh, flopped off the bed and stalked out of the room, tail held high.

The ghost faded out muttering something about stubborn animals and a good dousing with cold water.


	2. Chapter 1

Finally, here is an update to this story! Enjoy :)

* * *

**Chapter 1**

Having communicated the essence of what he required ghost kitty's help for, the Green Rider apparition looked hopefully at the cat, looking for some sign that the creature might agree to help out. This involved Karigan after all, and it was obvious the feline was fond of her - or at least fond of her bed, which the ghost had drily pointed out would no longer be hers if she met with an untimely demise. The cat sighed - although it may have been just dislodging a stray furball - and resumed washing it's ears.

The ghost rolled it's eyes and drew in a non-existent breath. "You will help me, Felinius Rex".

Felinius Rex - for that indeed was the cat's name, or Felix to those who knew him - looked at the transparent form before him for a long moment, then carefully finished grooming the remaining ear. The ghost waited for an answer, the occasional flicker in his form the only sign of impatience. Apparently this was the way with this creature, and having been in immortal form for a good half a century he could afford to wait a few minutes. Finally the white cat sat up and looked intently at the ghost, who took this as a sign to start explaining.

"There are intrigues afoot in the castle which, if allowed to play out, will destroy all Sacoridia and our hard-won peace."

The cat rolled it's eyes upwards towards its furry brows, which the ghost took to be disbelief in what surely sounded like an exaggerated tale.

"No, it's true. The Gods have granted us a glimpse of the future, Sacoridia defeated, Zachary and his line all but slain, the Black One in power and all magic turned to his destructive purposes; the magic of the land drained and the eletians perished. Sir Karigan traveled through time and brought back the story, although I fear it did little good for her sanity."

The cat's tail had begun to twitch, seeming to now accept this, his pale eyes showing distaste for Mornhavon's planned rule of terror. That he showed no surprise at Karigan's part pleased the ghost, and he suppressed a grin at the thought that evidently the mysterious feline knew more than he was letting on.

"There are those within the castle now who are plotting to force the king into marrying, and while political games and intrigues are commonplace, this one will mark the turning point of the disunification of the king's Council, and will necessarily separate him from Karigan. Without her, the king will not have the motivation to win when the war comes."

* * *

The cat's whiskers quivered. He knew of the rider's struggle with her feelings towards the king, since she talked in her sleep, and he thought with disdain that the humans must be truly idiotic to value some obsolete birth ranking over her evident powers and sense of duty.

He flicked his ears forward as the ghost began taking again, his transparent outline seeming to glow even as it wavered and began to grow less clear.

"Felinius Rex, I must return... to the future I came from... you must stop those plotting against the king... I will try to return... good luck."

And with that, the ghost disappeared entirely.

Felinius Rex, indeed no stranger to adventure, gave his right flank a couple of long licks for good measure, then jumped lightly off the bed and walked to the door. The ghost was right, he did quite like this Rider girl. He sensed that she was more than she seemed, something to do with the beat of wings, and she smelt like last summer's dry leaves and tomorrow's frost. At least, that's what he would have said if asked.

Well, if the humans he needed were nobles, then he would find them in the south-east wing of the castle, and if he took the servants corridor to get there, the route would take him past the kitchens, where he might just be able to wheedle a couple of tasty morsels on the way. He found himself visiting the kitchens a little more lately, as he had befriended a couple of mice who lived in the corner of a large room the Second Empire humans had been using, and he would rather resist eating such a useful source of information. He pushed through the door and set off down the corridor, wondering if he had been wrong to allow an outside threat to blind him to this apparent danger within the castle.

* * *

His stomach nicely full of mackerel tails and cheese pie, Felinius Rex moved smartly once more along a larger, deserted corridor behind the kitchens, his claws clacking softly on the flagstones.

Reaching the corner where the servant's passage intersected with the main thoroughfare he paused, senses alert. His ears caught the sound of a small bird through a nearby window, but he let it go. His nose quivered at the cloying perfumes drifting on the air. Yes, he was definitely close. He sneezed once and shook himself. One of the doors nearby opened suddenly and a gaggle of young girls came out, talking and laughing. He launched himself around the corner towards them and hesitated theatrically, smirking to himself, as the closest girl kneeled down in an attempt to coax him closer.

"Here kitty, there's a good kitty". After a few moments of well-played hesitation he sidled over and allowed her to stroke his fur. Now all the girls gathered around, petting him and scratching behind the ears. Extraction was required once they got to pulling his tail however, (most undignified, thank you very much), so he wound himself a few times through their legs, then pretended to chase a ray of sunshine down the hall.

Once the giggling girls had gone out of sight he paused again. The thick rugs he was now standing on told him he was close to the rooms of the Lord Governors and other important nobles and he carefully retracted his claws so as not to get stuck in the threads. The closest rooms were silent so he continued on, finally hearing voices coming from one of the largest suites. The door was open a crack so he carefully nudged it open with his paw before slipping inside.

* * *

**So, our hero has entered the fray! Obviously this is not a serious fic, just a bit of fun. I'd love to hear what you think. Thanks to Lady Julie Snape and Owlkin, who have reminded me that KxZ is still possible... At least in ff! **


	3. Chapter 2

Lord Arey, Lord-Governor of Arey Province, was not having a good day. Upon rising he had discovered that his gout was much worse, so much so that he could barely hobble to the small window in his chamber. After hurriedly bathing and dressing (assisted by his various attendants) he had then joined his wife and daughters for breakfast, thinking that at least filling his grumbling belly would cheer him up. However he soon found that the loud protests of his joints and rumbling stomach was well and truly drowned out by the voice of his wife.

" Thomas, oh have you seen the windows in the new wing here-"

"Yes Hortentia I rather think them drafty, you know my joints-"

"yes but Thomas dear, they are so much the recent fashion, you know Lady Penburn was just telling me she had hers redone, and I'd so much rather have the peaked arches and if we lived in something a little grander and less common we could have them done too but-"

"Dear you know we don't have the money for-"

"Anything but the most expensive pheasants on your table! At least your sizeable gut can attest to that. And not even hunted by your own hunting party, since you don't even hunt!"

And there it was – his most vulnerable points in one brief sentence. His younger self would have scratched his (now balding) head for a suitable come-back, but years of these kinds of ripostes had innured him, he thought sourly. He merely sent a glare to his eldest daughter – who was smirking, while the younger two did their best to look suitably unaware – and raised his glass to take a sip of cider. If his wife wanted to pretend she could've married someone richer, he let her; the mere fact that she had settled for his title spoke for itself.

From that (in hindsight not unexpected) sour beginning, his day had gotten steadily worse. He had nearly tripped on one of those detestable castle terriers, and torn his best coat in the process. He had seen a group of nobles from d'Yer and bowed his greeting, only to have them continue right past and pointedly ignore him.

And now here he was, in Lord Coutre's (significantly more sumptuous) apartments, being forced into an agreement he didn't like. He'd been bullied and belittled enough he decided; enough was enough.

"Now listen here, Coutre, I've had enough of your games. An alliance is one thing, but an alliance against the King? And all to ensure your daughter marries him? Now this is going too far."

"Protesting now, are we Tommy?" Lord-Governor Bairdly smirked as he leaned against the archway between the sitting room and the darkened library. The morning light fell on his handsome face and fine figure, arms crossed and one brown eyebrow raised. "You didn't raise a squeak when we petitioned the King for lower provincial taxes, or fewer men required to join the Sacoridian guard each year, so that our three combined militias would then number enough to be a threat to the King."

Lord Arey huffed where he sat in the comfy armchair, raising a cloud of dust upon which he choked for a second before answering.

"Yes but Alaistair, that was… Different. We were standing up for our interests, our people. But this? This only benefits Coutre here, who wants his daughter to be queen, and wants us to sign to our silence on a piece of paper, and what do we get out of it? Nothing, ruddy nothing."

Lord-Governor Coutre shifted slightly where he stood in front of the window, his halo of thinning blonde hair contrasting with his icy blue eyes. He took a deceptively casual step towards Lord Arey, somehow reminding the older man of one of the golden jungle cats from Huradesh.

"Nothing, Thomas? No, you will get free passage for your merchants across the north-western corner of Coutre province, which will prevent them from spending an extra week crossing the Wingsong Mountains at the northern pass."

"But they have been travelling that route for -"

"As long as anyone can remember, yes I know." An ugly look crossed Lord Coutre's face. "Until yesterday, when a score of brigands just happened to take up position at the southern pass near Blaxland, who are under orders to kill every man, woman or child who doesn't have enough coin to buy passage. Unless they are told otherwise by, well, me."

Lord Bairdley's smirk grew wider in the silence that followed, and he stood upright to properly enjoy the sight of Lord Arey deflating like a balloon.

"Edouard, please –"

"Thomas, you will agree to this alliance, and you will sign this paper declaring your secrecy in this matter, for the sake of your people. Once my daughter is safely married, and I have the King's ear, you may do as you like," he finished, managing to look merely bored.

None of the three men noticed a streak of white against the wall, which faded in and out of the shadows. Upon nearing the table which stood to the side of the room, the pale cat kept nimbly onto one of the chairs that surrounded it.

The noblemen continued their discussion, unheeding.

"Coutre, are you sure this paper will keep his mouth closed," said Alistair Bairdley, now giving the crumpled form of Lord Arey a doubtful look.

At that moment, the Lord in question made a faint noise – sort of a cross between a shriek and a snort – upon seeing a white cat climb casually from a chair onto the table, pick its way amongst the various sheets of parchment that littered the surface, take one of the pieces of paper carefully in its mouth, before turning around and leaping off silently the way it came.

"The… The paper…"

"Will be signed by you, yes Thomas. Isn't that right," returned Lord Coutre smirking, unaware of what had just taken place.

"Y- yes of course, Lord Coutre," stuttered Lord Arey, managing to smile a little at the thought that he knew something that the others didn't, even if, of course, there was nothing a mere cat could possibly do to help his predicament.

* * *

As a Black Shield, Fastion prided himself that nothing could surprise him. Not rogue assassins, or threats to the King, not cantankerous noblemen or wayward magical happenings; nothing could shake his cool granite façade and ever-ready alertness. But he had to admit, the sight of a large white cat trotting straight past his post and butting it's head at the door of the king's study had him rubbing his eyes and wondering if he was imagining things. Not that he doubted such creatures existed; he knew from talking to the tomb weapons that at least one such cat frequented the catacombs there, and had also heard rumours that a white cat had at one time taken up residence in Sir Karigan's room. No, it was the casual way the cat carried a piece of parchment in its mouth, and now stood in front of the oak door with a stern and slightly reproachful demeanor, exactly as the King's castellan had done just that afternoon. Only, the castellan had two hands, and therefore carried the piece of paper in one of them, and - the cat wasn't wearing spectacles.

Willis, on the other side of the corridor and slightly further down, moved closer to see what Fastion was frowning at. "Cat got your tongue, Fastion?" he asked, with a mischievous glint in his eye. Fastion was saved from replying by the creature in question, who, having given up on looking meaningfully between Fastion and the door, yowled loudly (or, as loudly as possible with a piece of paper between his teeth) and began winding his way around the legs of the two weapons in an apparent attempt to herd them closer to the door.

"What the –" spluttered Willis. "Fastion, is this beast some friend of yours?" The cat, apparently taking umbrage at being termed thus, swished his fluffy tail angrily at the weapon, who cursed and bent down to brush at the white hairs now covering his black trousers, somehow nearly stepped on said cat, stumbled, and fell on his backside.

Fastion laughed, actually laughed, at the sight of his fellow weapon sprawled on the floor, and after a moment Willis began to laugh too. The cat, however, appeared less than amused, and after fixing them both with a glare, formed a new plan.

By the time Willis had stood and dusted himself down (again), the white cat had managed to scale the large suit of armour standing some distance from the door, wobbled precariously on top of the helm, and leapt from there to the top of a plinth by the study door. Unfortunately in the process of launching himself off, the suit of armour was destabilised; it trembled, wobbled, and fell to the floor in many pieces with a great crashing and clanging.

The cat gave it only a momentary glance from atop the plinth with the regal bust of Queen Isen, and just as he launched himself spectacularly towards the knob of the study door, the door suddenly swung open, and an exclamation of "What's all this –" was cut short as the white cat sailed through the air, landing with a muffled thump and a scrunching of parchment, right into the arms of the king himself.

* * *

**A/N: Ghost Kitty to the rescue! Please review if you enjoyed this :) **


	4. Chapter 3

Captain Laren Mapstone sighed heavily as she leant backwards against the stone ballustrade. It had been a long week, with several Council meetings that had gone through the night, and they had just finished such a meeting that resolved some of the final decisions in dealing with this whole mess. But instead of being allowed to return to her bed, the king had dragged her up here for some fresh air.

Behind them the dawn was breaking with what was probably a spectacular sunrise, but she wasn't interested in that right now. She risked a glance at Zachary's profile as he stood beside her. He had what she called his Intrigue face on, and she couldn't detect any sign of emotion, apart from the way his shoulders sagged slightly.

"I can't believe I pushed you into nearly marrying that man's daughter."

"You were doing what you thought was best Laren, I don't blame you for all this."

You should, she thought to herself silently. When was the last time she really thought about what he needed as a person, as a man? She had done her best to think of what was right by the kingdom, knowing how he hated schemes and intrigues, so she had tried to scheme on his behalf, to somehow make up for what his utter nobility of character made so distasteful to him. She had seen it as a weakness. But had this contract of marriage gone ahead, not only would the kingdom have suffered from the manipulation and control of Lord Coutre, but Zachary would have suffered too.

"No Moonling, I should have trusted your judgement."

He appeared to accept this apology, and for a while they looked up at the starry sky in silence, each lost in thought.

Eventually, as he showed no sign of talking, she ventured a question.

"So… What now?"

"What now? We've dealt with Coutre. We get some sleep. We go back to looking after the interests of our people."

She acknowledged the gentle rebuke with an incline of her head, knowing he knew she'd been trying to look out for him. As she'd always done. That was why she had to ask this question; someone else would be asking it before long.

"No Zachary, now we've dealt with Coutre - towards whom I have to say you've been rather too forgiving - you know the council will still pressure you to marry?"

"True… But hopefully not today Laren. Perhaps eventually… someone from Huradesh?"

They both laughed, knowing that if there was anything the council liked less than the idea of the king marrying a commoner, it was the idea of the king marrying a suspicious foreigner.

Zachary looked thoughtful before saying, "You know, I think the council might relax their view on who the king can marry. I think it's occurred to some of them that the idea of one of the other nobles getting the upper hand is something avoidable here…"

Laren smirked. Of course the only time the nobles would be able to stomach progress was when they realised they could get a better deal for themselves.

It struck Laren suddenly that Zachary had been rather too accepting of the idea of not marrying Estora. So if not Estora, then who?

Zachary, apparently recognising that his old friend was beginning to look a little too thoughtful, began again.

"Laren, do you really think I was too lenient on Lord Coutre?"

Lauren sighed. Of course he would second-guess himself.

"As I said – As did half your advisors – you could have chosen to have him executed for treason. Even though no direct act had been committed, with the paper we, er, obtained, along with Lord Arey's testimony, it would have been perfectly reasonable to do so."

It was now the kjng's turn to sigh as he scrubbed his hand down his face wearily. "I know Laren. I hope my people know I don't make these decisions lightly. But from my experience with people like Alaistair Coutre, it is better to take away their power, split them from their allies, than to give their neighbors and loved ones a martyr, a reason to unite with the Crown as their common enemy. As much as I dislike leaving Coutre in charge of his province, we have taken away his provincial militia entirely, leaving him to the mercy of Lord Bairdly, who I think he will find has a new respect for the king."

Lord Bairdly's surprisingly timid son had been appointed apprentice Assistant to the Castellan, and was proving rather adept.

Laren's mouth pursed again, causing Zachary to laugh. "I know you don't approve. I haven't forgotten this game of intrigue is real. But isn't it better to have the players on the board where you can see them, rather than inviting new players with new, unknown rules to align against you? If there's anything I've learnt from this whole series of events, it's that you must take life and make what you will of it – because if you become intimidated by the other players in the game, you've lost already."

He gave her a sudden grin and turned abruptly to descend down the stone staircase, followed by two weapons who materialised out of the shadows. Laren stayed still for a moment, pondering. That last look on his face, it was different somehow, something in it that reminded her of a much younger Zachary, a lightness in his tread as he left her.

And she realized what it was.

Hope.

* * *

**So that's the last little bit to finish off this idea - just a bit of fun really. Hope you enjoyed it, and if you did, review and let me know! I may come back to this Kitty-verse at some stage - or if there's some other part of GR that you wish Kitty had been there to save the day, let me know and I'll give it a go. I'm also open to any prompts for little drabble bits... I have to admit I'm rather fond of what I did with Lords Arey, Bairdly and Coutre so if I get some ideas for them that would be fun too. (did you notice their initials spell A, B, C? Don't know if our esteemed author did that on purpose, but I found it amusing anyway.) Bye for now - AM**


	5. Chapter 5

Wow… it's been a while.

This Kitty fic is set some time in FRC, since that's when KZ had the meeting with Spane The Pain and other nobles from Coutre – first time in canon that we see KZ being pressured into the marriage. (Unfortunately I wrote the earlier chapters before re-reading the book, so there are a few bits which contradict canon… bonus points if you can tell me what they are :) )

Luckily, in my fic universe here, Coutre's dastardly ways have been exposed by our hero Mr Felinius Rex shortly before it got to that point.

I really liked a GR oneshot by Once Upon a Faerytale, called "Dreamcatcher". I thought it fitted in with this AU, so I have permission from the lovely author to adopt it.

So – go and read it if you haven't already – that One-shot is intended to fit in after the chapters I've done so far but preceding this chapter – and then come back and read this. Huzzah!

XXXXXXXXXXX

**Chapter 4**

The mending wing seemed quieter than usual as Karigan padded down the main corridor. Of course, since the episode where she had swung her sabre at Ben, most of the menders avoided her. Except for Ben, who somehow seemed understanding about the whole thing, and Master Mender Destarion, who refused to let himself by cowed by anyone, patient or no.

She breathed a sigh of relief as she exited and headed off towards the east wing, the great oaken door clicking shut behind her; despite the fact that she had only been visiting Mara, and not a patient herself, it was always a sense of freedom to be leaving that place. _This time, she thought. You had better keep your wits about you Kari, before more trouble finds you. _

She startled to hear the sound of boots approaching behind her, and turned to find the King's secretary Cummings, looking unusually flustered.

"Are there you are, Rider. The King requests your presence in his study." He nodded once and hurried off the way he'd come, before she had the chance to wonder why he hadn't just sent a Green Foot runner to fetch her.

She paused before turning down another passageway that led to the royal quarters. She smiled to herself, remembering the hot chocolate she had shared only a few nights ago with the King. Her heart gave a small lurch, thinking of the warm expression in his brown eyes when he told her to call him Zachary.

She thought he looked much happier these days, now that Captain Mapstone was back to her old self, but their encounter in the kitchens showed how much still weighed on him, constantly. Having the Captain at his side in the many meetings would surely be a comfort though; she hadn't been needed at any meetings now, for which she could only be glad, since she hadn't felt able to contribute much.

As she had attended the meetings she realised just how much she admired the king – for his patience, his unwavering dedication to his subjects, his sense of fairness, his ability to deal firmly but kindly with all manner of people and topics. No, he didn't need her advice, but sitting in the dim light of the kitchen she had felt he appreciated her company; they had a kinship in their struggle to do their duty. But, that was where they differed, she mused; while she acted out of fear, caught in events bigger than herself and struggling constantly to hold herself together, he had the power to deal confidently with his duties, the support and advisors around him to do so effortlessly. But yet, in spite of all his power and exulted station, he kept finding ways to show her the man beneath the crown. One who – her cheeks heated at this thought – singled her out and chose to see the honourable part of her, the part beneath all her doubts and fears. One who, seeing her distressed at the loss of friend, had held her while she cried and covered her in his greatcoat.

She had felt his distress when the news came about Alton's disappearance, and of course he was affected, he cared for his subjects, and especially his Riders, she knew. But there was another sadness in him when he looked at her. She chewed this over in her mind as she walked down a wider corridor.

The sadness, she realised, was in empathy for her own sadness. "I know he was your friend", he had said, looking sorrowfully at her. And was he? She knew she felt something for Alton, something she hadn't wanted to examine fully at the time, whether it was more than the friendship that they had.

She shook herself and realised her feet had stopped moving, and that she stood in front of the King's study door. Another pair of boots stood near her own, and she raised her eyes to look up at a bemused-looking Fastion. She cleared her throat, embarrassed at being caught daydreaming, and unconsciously smoothed her uniform.

"The – the king asked to see me." Fastion, to his credit, only nodded respectfully and moved to open the door.

XXXXXXXXXX

The late summer breeze curled invitingly as she entered the large room. She glanced around to find its source, then stopped short. The room looked larger, and barer and she stood perplexed for a moment before hearing a chuckle from near the open window.

"I found myself not quite so fond of all the suits of armour after our little… adventure the other day."

Of course, she thought, feeling her cheeks heat up in embarrassment. The Weapons and other castle staff had carefully dismantled all remaining suits of armour in the corridors; of course that would apply also to his own personal suite. Not only that, but her cheeks heated further as she thought in embarrassment of their late night meeting in the kitchens, and how somehow despite all the worries he must be facing – murderous suits of armour, dark magic loose in the land, the traitorous actions of Lords Coutre and now d'Ivary, the problems in d'Yer with the wall, Captain Mapstone only recently returned to duty – despite all this, he managed to smile and share a drink with her, and be concerned about _her_ worries, _her_ emotional turmoil. And she hadn't thought once of his. Not that she hadn't thought of _him_, it was a little hard not to, these days. That moment of landing on top of him, after wrestling that suit of armour, had been all too interesting. She cast her eyes at the wall above his desk, looking something to say to fill the awkward silence.

"That's a nice, um, painting you have there."

He laughed again. "Well after removing the decorative weaponry the room was rather bare, so that one was moved in from further down the wing. It is not quite to my taste, but that can be remedied shortly."

Truthfully she couldn't imagine anyone liking it, the large picture with dark green trees forming a backdrop for what was meant to be a hunting scene; in the foreground half a dozen large savage dogs ripped apart a deer, their muzzles dripping blood onto the earth. It was grizzly, and downright depressing.

She turned back to him, and saw him still trying to suppress a smile. "I needn't ask what you think of it, the look on your face is quite sufficient. Laren told me she thought people might take me more seriously with that kind of décor. I think she was joking. At least, I hope she was."

The twinkle in his eye as he gestured towards the armchairs by the fireplace told her he wasn't bothered by either sentiment. She sat carefully in one of them, and accepted a cup of what looked like a cool lemon beverage before he sat in the other.

"How do you do it?" she said suddenly, before she had the chance to marvel at her own boldness. After all, she knew him, but not that well, and he was the king after all. He raised one brown eyebrow, prompting her to explain. "With so many problems, and you're expected to solve all of them, and the intrigues and the politics, how do you stay so… unaffected? And I heard about what happened with d'Ivary, and… "

She trailed off uncertainly, catching a dark flash in his eyes at the mention of the suffering that he surely blamed on his own failure of judgement.

He sighed, the levity that had been there slipping from his shoulders, forcing him to grip his own cup tighter. She cursed herself silently and opened her mouth to apologise, but he shook his head slightly, frowning and appearing to withdraw into himself for a few minutes.

Finally he set his cup down and turned slightly towards her. "It's not… it's not easy, being the king." In spite of himself his mouth lifted slightly, as if amused by the obviousness of this statement. He leaned forward as he spoke again, the earnestness in his face endearing.

"It's true there are many expectations, and now more than ever, problems that our country faces. And never doubt it, I take my responsibility very seriously, I care deeply for my people. I think – I think you know this. I used to be a very serious young monarch indeed, although somewhat cynical perhaps, before a certain young lady whirled into my throne room and had the audacity to question my knowledge about the state of my own kingdom. But over time, I've come to see that the threats to the kingdom would only multiply if I were to wear myself to the bone. I've grown into a wise old man, and I now learn to take what comfort I can, from those around me. It's friendship such as Laren's, and yours, Karigan, which buoys me."

Her jaw dropped, and she tried to gather her wits to protest this; that as she was constantly the constant bearer of terrible news, this could hardly be the case; but he smiled and she found herself somewhat dazed by his almond eyes. She blinked and found it necessary to study the pattern on the rug for a few moments.

"Forgive me Karigan," his gentle tone drew her gaze back to him "- if I sound overly sentimental, but knowing I can trust you means a lot to me. It's rare to find people whose actions aren't calculated to get what they want from me, however innocent that may be. Even the castle terriers want a pat or a nice titbit here and there," he finished, a studied lightness finding its way back into his expression.

She glanced again at the rug in front of the empty hearth, grasping his mention of said dogs as a welcome distraction. "And where is Finder this afternoon?"

"The stable master has some new apprentice lads, and they've apparently decided the dogs needed a decent grooming." They shared a grin at this, for surely no more pampered pooches existed anywhere in the kingdom.

The afternoon light waned as they talked about inconsequential matters, and Karigan felt she'd never been so at ease around him. Somehow it helped that he'd spoken so openly, and she felt she understood him a little.

Eventually she stood to take her leave, the Weapon by the door moving to open it for her. Zachary – for he had insisted yet again that she should call him that – took her hand and kissed it gallantly. However his expression grew more serious as he held her hand for a moment. "Karigan, promise me something – Laren may approach you and the other Riders with a proposal – please say you'll consider it carefully before agreeing?"

She started to withdraw her hand from his, "But what is she suggesting, and why are you so concerned – ouch!" she exclaimed loudly. She shook her hand before examining the offending part of her finger in consternation.

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Felinious Rex was walking jauntily down the corridor past the Royal Suite, tail held high. He'd had an interesting visit with his mouse-friends – something was definitely a-foot with the Second Empire humans, they told him, or rather one might say a-paw, he smirked to himself. Then he'd had a very successful trip to the kitchens, where one of the under-cooks had fed him post-lunch scraps of bacon and chicken stew. After sunning himself in the courtyard, he'd encountered one of the stable cats, a lovely lady with brown eyes; mind you, being no ordinary cat made a permanent agreement somewhat tricky, but there'd be no harm in a little dalliance in the future, hm?

And now he was wending his way back to Karigan's rooms, to check on things there. Her nice bed didn't hurt either. That said – he could smell her scent here. He stopped outside the door, nose twitching and barely glancing at Willis, who was giving him a rather stern glare. Karigan must be inside that room.

All of a sudden he heard a loud "ouch", and then sounds of discomfort. What if – he thought of the nasty humans with dead trees drawn onto their hands – what if they'd got a hold of her? He must save Karigan! He looked at the black-clad Weapon who looked back at him for a moment with the same wide-eyed expression, before they both looked at the door. Willis put his hand on the doorknob, pausing for a split second before swinging it open, and they both rushed into the room.

There was Karigan, who at that moment gave another muffled sound of pain, and the king, who had been holding her hand, but had at that moment released it with a look of satisfaction – and another weapon on this side of the door, who was looking on without concern. All three of them swivelled to stare at Willis, who suddenly looked rather embarrassed, and then looked down at the cat by his side. Despite this sudden scrutiny, Felinious Rex made his way swiftly to Karigan and butted his head against her, determined to make sure she was alright.

Karigan now had her finger in her mouth, and bent to scratch behind his ear with her other hand. "Hello there Kitty," she murmured, "did you come to save me from the splinter?"

As Willis looked rather bewildered – and Felix did too, but it would have been indecipherable to a human – Zachary grinned and explained. "Seems our Rider here had a splinter in her hand from training with Drent. I think we got it out now."

His grin grew as Karigan scowled at the thought of the horrid training, which had involved lifting heavy pieces of wood with one arm, in an attempt to strengthen her injured wrist. Or so he said – it could easily be mistaken for a form of sadistic torture. The Weapons looked solemn as if they quite understood – which all things considered, they probably did – and the white cat flattened his ears, although that may have been because Karigan was now scratching under his chin in a most gratifying way. In fact, he'd be tempted to roll on the floor on his back, if it weren't that that was what the castle mutts did, and he was much too self-respecting for that.

Karigan sighed, and straightened, rolling her eyes at Zachary, who was starting to laugh.

"Looks like you've got a furry saviour there, Rider."

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Later on after dinner though, all thoughts of levity were gone. Captain Mapstone had called a meeting of all the Green Riders in the common room, and so every armchair, stool and available surface had a Rider perched upon it. Garth's eyes were unusually downcast, and even Tegan looked solemn.

Laren looked upon them all sadly. "I'm sure by now all of you have heard the news about Alton." There were muffled murmurs of assent. "Officially we've been told we must assume that he's dead. However –" she continued, "despite the unfortunate passing of his uncle Lord Landrew in trying to find Alton, I don't believe he is dead." There were startled looks at this, but her audience remained captivated, a silent hope rising.

"Reports tell us that the provincial troops stationed there are stretched thin, dealing with attacks from beyond the wall, tending their injured and continuing to patrol the area of the breach. But Alton was one of us, we won't abandon him while there's still hope. My plan is to send a delegation of Riders to the wall and if there's any chance he's still alive, we will go into Blackveil, and we will find him. This is not an order, but some of you whose abilities may come in handy, may wish to volunteer." Karigan could feel the Captain's gaze fall on her, and then move to the back corner of the room, where she knew Lynx was leaning against the wall.

"I want all of you to think on this tonight. And come and see me tomorrow. Dismissed."

So, that was it, thought Karigan numbly. What the king had tried to warn her about. The Captain wanted her to go into that most dreadful of places, from whence no one could possibly expect to return – into Blackveil.

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**so - there it is... A strange mix of drama and humour, I know, but I must write what comes! Planning to get this out of my head before Book 6 comes out. **

**Reviews would be most gratifying, as Kitty would say!**


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